


The First

by thecanary



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Coming Out, Gen, I'll tag as I go, Misgendering, Spoilers for The Golden Circle, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transitioning, my first published fic!, other characters will be in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 04:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12314022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecanary/pseuds/thecanary
Summary: Tequila is a Statesman agent. Tequila works hard. Tequila is Whiskey's best friend, or his younger sister, or, maybe not? Tequila came out, Tequila transitioned, and he is happy about it. He's the first transgender Statesman agent! When he wakes up from cryosleep what he is told is terrible, but it's too late, really.In other words, Tequila is a trans man, he and Whiskey were friends, and he missed out on more during cryosleep that he is happy with.Or, a fic about Tequila coming out and transitioning as a trans man, specifically as a trans man who is a Statesman agent. His relationship with his fellow agents, and eventually, him meeting another trans man for the first time in real life, not that he noticed at the time.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fic published on ao3, definitely the longest thing I've ever written. Constructive criticism/any kind of review would be greatly appreciated!  
> The misgendering tag is there just to indicate that the third person POV uses she/her pronouns for Tequila for the second and third paragraphs, before he realises he's trans.

It was a small mercy, Tequila figured. He hadn't been out for long, the cryosleep was what the rest of the Statesmen had decided would be safer for him until they found out what was wrong, and what the cure was. At least they'd left his singlet on. Somehow he didn't trust the Kingsmen enough to see what made him different from everyone else, English snobs as far as Tequila cared, and quite possibly not accepting. It wasn't like the upside-down ’t’s underneath each of his nipples could mean anything else. There was no real lie he could go with if someone asked about them. 

It was very little mercy in the scheme of things, Tequila figured. Waking up from cryosleep and being told Whiskey was dead. Whiskey had betrayed them, and he was dead. Whiskey, who had been so kind to Tequila for so long, had betrayed all of them, all of the Statesmen, he'd been ready to let Tequila die, he hadn't even been working with someone else, he'd just been ready to throw the alliance to the dirt. But that hardly even mattered, because he was dead, dead without a body to bury, dead not even once but twice. Tequila didn't know who to talk to about it. No one would understand it, that Tequila would hardly be who he was without Whiskey's help and comfort. 

___

"Kid, get over here, you need to train if you wanna get anywhere within the Statesmen," Whiskey called out, jerking his head over, indicating that Tequila should join him. Tequila did, not wanting to insult the older man. As far as she could tell, Whiskey saw Tequila as a younger sister of sorts, someone to protect, someone who probably shouldn't be out on missions. Tequila called bullshit on all of that, but wasn't about to turn down advice from someone who had been in Statesmen for longer, especially when he was such a respected member. 

The two of them were close. Something between siblings and best friends and a bit more, but Tequila didn't care all that much, she just cared that someone inside Statesmen recognised that she was just as strong as any of them. She was just as tall as Whiskey - taller in heels - and certainly bigger. Tequila worked out a lot, training in combat when she could, and running and lifting weights at other times. Something about her body always threw her off, leading her to want to do more to make it better. She didn't know what better meant there, but all she knew was she needed to push herself further. 

It was all at once that Tequila realised, not slowly. It should have been slow, gradual realizations of things, but all of those hints were only seen in retrospect.

Instead, Tequila got out of bed for training one day, pulling on two sports bras, ready for another day of being one of the guys. One of the guys. Another day of being a guy?

Tequila sat straight back down, looking at his body, the way he'd built up muscle to hide how fat distributed on his body, the layered sports bras to hold his chest down tightly, breasts that grew seemingly overnight in puberty blending into his body like muscular pectorals. It was his body. It was Tequila's body and he had worked hard for it. It didn't take him long to start to tell everyone else. They needed to know, Tequila figured. 

"Champ," Tequila said, a wide grin plastered on his face. There was an obvious change in demeanour about Tequila. Champagne noticed - it would hardly be seemly for the head of a top secret spy organisation to not notice a change in an employee. 

"Come over here girl, tell me what's wrong." Champ's voice was loud and gentle, his southern accent rounding off the words as he spoke. 

"Well that there's just it." Tequila paused, looked down and cleared his throat before looking back up to see Champ's eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. "I'm not a girl. I don't want to be a girl. I'm not just trying fit in or whatever - " a vague hand gesture - "this is who I am. And I'd appreciate it a mighty fine amount if I didn't get booted from Statesmen for it."

There was less than a second for Tequila to worry that he would get kicked out, just as the fear started to set in, Champ let out a gentle laugh. A loud laugh, but to anyone who knew Champagne well, it was obviously kind. 

"Okay lad." No hesitation, no questioning, no interrogation, Champagne's hands rested on his desk as he looked at Tequila. "What can I do to help? Anything you need from Statesman's resources, I'll sort it out."

Tequila nodded. "Hormones. Testosterone will sort out my body, make it less... like this, lower my voice and all that. I need a binder to flatten my chest. It'll work better than sports bras when I'm not training at least."

"I'll sort it out for you. Testosterone will be easy, but I'm not sure how I feel about you restricting your chest all the time while you're working."

"There's always surgery." Tequila shrugged. "It'll deal with it all, but you usually can't go straight with that option."

"I'll look into it. I'll call you once we've sorted something out.”

“And you’re okay with all this?”

“Listen, kid, I’m old, but you’re not the first trans person I’ve met, I doubt you’ll be the last. Even if you do have the honour of being our first trans agent.”

Tequila nodded, smile on his face more confident now. 

“If that’s everything, you’re good to go, and I’ll let you know when I can do something for you.” 

 

It was harder with Whiskey. 

"So, you're telling me you're a guy now?"

"Have been the whole time. But now we all know."

Beat. Silence.

Tequila rushed to speak again. "I know this is a lot. You just need to know. It's still me, but I'm not some girl who needs to be protected anymore. I'm still Tequila, I'm just a man."

Beat. Silence.

But then, a nod. Whiskey gave a low hum, acknowledging what had been said. 

Beat. 

Whiskey pulled Tequila in close, and neither man felt uncomfortable about the embrace. It felt right for the two of them to be physically close. It was rare that they were emotionally distant anyway. 

"You were never some girl who needed to be protected anyway," Whiskey said. "You could stand up for yourself easy."

As the two pulled away from each other, it was with grins on both of their faces. 

Tequila's smile only grew as time went on, as he could layer his shirt and jacket over a binder that held his chest down flat - not completely of course, but close enough. The testosterone injections were never hard for Tequila. Emotionally easy, not painful physically, and with an incredibly high reward. He took special pride once he learned how to do them himself, within three shots, and then was completely self-sufficient. It made it easier to put on muscle, and while the change wasn't dramatic, his chest did shrink in just the right way. The muscle gain also raised his height by an inch or two, so he was just taller than Whiskey. 

"Careful there, you won't be a little brother to me for much longer if you keep going like this," Whiskey said, who had nothing but kind words to say to Tequila. 

"That's hardly a bad thing. Well, maybe to you it is, but I'm loving it."

Whiskey shook his head, still smiling.

"Come on." Tequila was practically egging him on at this point. "Next thing you're going to accuse me of overcompensating, you know, all my height, all my muscles, not so much -" he gave an over-theatrical grimace, glancing downwards. 

This led to an enthusiastic laugh between the two of them. In retrospect, painful, but at the time, it was joyous. 

 

"Champ, you said you had news for me?" Tequila never felt hesitant about talking to Champagne, but when it was brought up as 'news' or 'something important to talk about', he certainly had an air of caution. 

"You mentioned an interest in," Champagne trailed off, trying to find the words he wanted to say. "Top surgery, that was it. Is that still something that you'd like?"

Tequila managed to prevent his mouth from dropping open in surprise, but he was certainly happy. 

"Like, it's a definite yes from me, if you can afford to have me out of work for that long." 

Tequila always was a bit cheeky. It was good then, when Champagne returned Tequila's comment with a laugh. 

"I'm sure we'll find someone to fill your place, not that they'd find it easy living up to your high standard."

"So, you're serious then though. This is, a real option?"

"I talked to a surgeon who has done work for us in the past. It's just our luck that he knows what you want. You have a meeting with him tomorrow to talk options."

Tequila paused, clearing a lump in his throat, not letting tears come to his eyes. "Thanks, Champ." 

"Don't mention it. I want what's gonna help my agents work their best. Let me know what time you're going to need off."

And with a nod, Tequila was out of there, quickly trying to recall everything he could remember about his surgery options.

 

The meeting with the surgeon went off without a hitch. Tequila found it a bit awkward at first, to talk about options, and what would work best for him in his line of work, the risk of sensation loss, everything. They scheduled a day for surgery - fortunately, it would be in the Statesmen medical area, no need to go public with any of it, and most of the other agents were aware of what was going on with Tequila anyway. Champagne was easy going, and Tequila got the necessary days off easily. When he woke up, chest aching but it didn't feel bad. Hell, it felt great. Tequila wasn't necessarily the kind of guy to relish in pain, but the dull ache that reminded him he was one step closer to what he wanted, that made him feel better. 

Recovery was slower than what he would have liked. It didn't bother Tequila, having to wait a bit longer before he had to go back to work, but as soon as the bandages could come off his chest and he was allowed to start training again, he was overjoyed. The anchor shaped scars on his chest were a triumph to see. Sure, he had to train slowly, and he was weaker after weeks of recovery, but it was a start. It was two weeks of bed rest, and then an exhaustingly boring week of walking around not allowed to train. Technically, it should have been more than one week of no training, but he was Tequila, after all. 

 

"Should you be in training already?" 

Whiskey caught Tequila in the act, although it wasn't like it was combat or anything. He was just practising agility, trying to regain the ability that he had of twisting his body, climbing, anything that involved stretching his chest. It hurt like a bitch, but that wasn't any reason to give up. It was three weeks after his surgery, halfway through the recommended six weeks before intense exercise. Tequila wasn’t patient anyway, and he reasoned that climbing and jogging wasn’t that intense. If he didn’t want the scars to stretch across his chest, he was advised to rest for longer, but Tequila would sooner deal with the scars as a later problem, and keep his fitness up. 

"I don't wanna let myself just waste away. That'd make for a piss poor excuse of an agent." 

Conversations were hard to maintain with one person on the top of a climbing frame. Tequila climbed down slowly. He did his best not to wince every time his arms stretched, but apparently, with Whiskey's eagle eyes, his best wasn't really great. 

"Still hurting?"

"Yeah. I think it'll get better the more I train though. Just need to get my muscles back."

Hearing that from Tequila was enough to make anyone laugh. His frame had been lean muscle before joining Statesmen, and the bulking out he did after joining was only aided by the testosterone. Even the week or so of bed rest that he’d been forced to take hadn't impacted him that much. Luckily.


	2. Chapter 2

Sure, Tequila had always had a rebellious streak in him. He didn't let other people tell him what to do, didn't follow the rules so much as anyone else. Joining Statesman definitely hadn't motivated him to become any more of a law abiding citizen. If anything, being part of a top secret agency made him feel like he had more leeway around the law than most people. Maybe if Statesmen hadn't recruited him he would have become a sorority girl, or the girlfriend to a drug dealer. Maybe he would have been the kind of person to flirt to get drinks before turning 21. Flirting to get what he wanted, now that was something he was consistent about at least, and it came in handy in his line of work. 

A few white lies to get people's attention while working worked well for Tequila. Getting a target's attention, making them flirt, it had worked well when he was a girl, and he still did decent job of it.   
"You tryna tell me, not j'st me, you tryna tell all of us, that you don't drink?" He was a target. Blatantly flirting with Tequila, but Tequila didn't mind. Neither did the guy's boyfriend, apparently.   
"Well, maybe for you I would."   
The target laughed and set a beer down in front of Tequila, almost looking impressed when Tequila just shrugged and downed almost half of it in one go.   
"How's that for drinking?"  
The target laughed. He slapped a hand on Tequila's back with an affirmative nod.   
"Thought you'd pull somethin' like that."  
It was easy to fool someone who was so easily impressed. Tequila wasn't complaining in the slightest. And when he lit a joint and offered Tequila a drag, he wasn't about to insult his target when he'd come so far. From there it was easy to get the information out of him. 

So Tequila drank, and he'd picked up smoking - weed that is, he'd never touch a cigarette. The higher risk of lung problems wasn't really one he was willing to take, in a job that relied so keenly on his being fit. So what if Tequila liked to smoke recreationally sometimes. In mission or out of mission, it didn't impact his work, no one would complain. At least, he figured no one would complain. He hardly walked around the base reeking of pot, and didn't smoke frequently. Just when he was out of town, in a bigger city, on a mission, or with old friends, it didn't hurt anyone. At least, Tequila didn't think so. The dirty looks and death glares that Whiskey gave him when he saw him, the fact that he and Whiskey talked less now, it made him wonder. 

It was a debriefing for the last few months. Making sure Ginger Ale had all the information correct in her files, making sure everything was up to date in Tequila's files, nothing too bad, but too time consuming for Tequila to find helpful. After a quiet pause, waiting for a computer to load, Tequila spoke, voicing his concerns.   
"Tell me if it's just me, but have I done anything to piss Whiskey off lately?"   
Ginger Ale gave a low hum, glancing away from her computer screen. It took her a moment to reply, and the tension in the air was thick.   
"You've been a lot more casual about a lot of things lately. Everyone knows what you do in missions, and what you do outside of missions too, and -"  
Tequila cut her off: "How is that any of his business? I'm not hurting anyone. I'm keeping up with my work. He shouldn't have the ri-"  
Another interruption.   
"You don't know his life. You don't know his past. When he chooses not to make information public, that's his choice. Until then, just know that he has his reasons."  
Tequila's turn to feel awkward. The expression he was making, his face almost scrunched up, although trying not to let that much emotion show made it obvious. For Tequila, the lack of at least a slight smile, or any other kind of expression, said more than he liked. Being raised to always be happy, always be smiling, it was hard to unlearn. Some people found someone who is always smiling easier to get along with anyway, so he didn't necessarily feel like dropping the habit. The rest of the debriefing went off without a hitch, but the tension in the air didn't seem to fade. 

It was the same tension that filled the air the next time there was a meeting, with both Tequila and Whiskey in attendance. The words that they did share in the meeting were not directly to each other at any point, just talking about plans and missions and efficiency, but gradually the tension faded, to everyone's relief. The next time they ran into each other in training, it felt far less awkward, the next time they needed to plan a mission together, they had already gone back to their old ways. The unspoken disagreement had been forgotten, some kind of don't ask don't tell policy, self imposed by the pair to make their lives easier. Tequila did his best to quiet rumours about himself, so at least Whiskey wouldn't have to hear about whatever he chose to do in his time off. That seemed to make things easier, although Tequila did miss the close relationship that they had had. It had begun to rebuild itself, smiles offered more freely, chatting was easier. At the same time, Tequila was becoming happier, his body fitting what he wanted more, not much missing in his life except Whiskey. 

After that, it all happened so quickly. First the secret agent that Whiskey brought back. They managed to restore his injury - Tequila was glad that not even headshots were a guaranteed death any more. It made it easier for him to be reckless in his work, not that he wasn't reckless enough as is. Especially with his drug use, which he didn't know yet was going to come back and bite him. But back to the mysterious secret agent; without any knowledge of who he was, the man - Harry - was known only to them as a lepidopterist, not really a secret agent at all. Harry certainly didn't see himself as such, and no one else saw any point in saying otherwise. Tequila couldn't help but feel ridiculous keeping him around, but he rarely interacted with him, and they could hardly do anything else for him. There was hardly a list available of secret agents and where they belonged - if there had been, Harry would have been sent off a lot sooner. Back to where he belonged or something like that. 

It had seemed like keeping him at their base was to be a permanent solution. They couldn't send forces out to try find out where he belonged, nor did they think it was safe for an ex-secret agent with no knowledge of the fact to go out on his own. The former would be wasting resources, a practical way of thinking about things, the reasoning for the latter was a bit more emotionally driven, but Tequila agreed with both decisions. He hadn't needed to, Champ always knew the right decisions it seemed. This was all true until two men broke into the Statesmen base, their truth sounding completely fabricated, but their stubbornness surprising Tequila. Claiming to be the last agents of an agency was a risky call, no one to back them up, but no one to argue with them. The fact that they weren't taking no for an answer gave an insight into their desperation. Then they recognised the lepidopterist and that was that. Kingsmen, they were apparently, and they had to be accepted. They were going to help, and in exchange, the Statesmen would help them. After that came the blue rash, apparently spread through drugs. Tequila was a victim of it, and he didn't want to think about the 'I told you so' from Whiskey that he so deserved. There was no time for that kind of banter anyway. It was clear that the rash was spreading rapidly, all around the world. No comment on the common popularity of drug use. Tequila was regretting what had led him to that point, sure, but even so, it was too late. For him, there was no way to hide it - even if he wanted to wear makeup to cover it up, it would hardly be a safe solution. The thought of wearing makeup didn't appeal - he knew why, and he wasn't interested in beating himself up over it. There was no point in lying to his team, and no point in putting such important missions at risk. So into cryosleep it was. At the hands of the rest of the Statesmen, until a cure was found. Which was where he awoke, in the same cryosleep bed, grateful for the small mercies.

The concern on everyone's faces, that wasn't a mercy, it was a reminder. They knew how much Whiskey meant to him, and how the pair of them hadn't truly reconciled anyway, even though they were so close. And then, Whiskey betrayed them. Tequila would have died, and Whiskey was ready to let that happen, apparently Whiskey thought he deserved it. With feelings that strong, maybe Tequila should consider agreeing. He didn't though, instead making a decision to just waste his time on booze, a legal yet equally potent mind numbing fuel. 

"You okay mate?"   
It was Galahad the younger asking him that - Eggsy, he had found out his name was. What kind of name that was he had no idea, but with Tequila couldn't really talk. All the time caught up in Statesmen he hadn't really thought up a civilian name for himself anyway. 

Tequila gave a hum and a nod, taking another swig of beer. 

The pair were at a bar, along with the new Whiskey and Galahad the older, half debriefing half getting to know each other. 

"You'll forgive me for having my doubts," Harry replied. "I understand you and the late Whiskey were close. I know it can be hard to lose a loved one."

Tequila wasn't nosy, but if he were, he certainly would have been interested to hear the story in that statement. 

"That's one way to put it, yeah," Tequila said. It was hard to explain how close Whiskey had been to him without outing himself, and as much faith as he had in the British duo, that was a step too far. But, four beers into the night, along with whatever day drinking he had done had made him a bit impulsive. "He was just always there. He helped me be a real agent, showed me how to do all sorts of stuff right. I thought he'd be there forever but now he's just fucking gone."

Tequila looked at the other agents, just daring them to say something. He knew Eggsy could relate to some extent, but he didn't really want to enter that line of inquiry. 

"Ah, so that's what it was like," Eggsy eventually said. 

Tequila waited for the inevitable judgment, but apparently Eggsy had just been pausing to find his words. 

"You loved 'im - didn't you?" 

It wasn't a criticism, just a remark, but Tequila's stomach felt low in his gut. He just took another swig of beer, choosing not to answer the question. Hell, he didn't even know the answer himself, he was never sure about it, always had more important things to worry about, but now, he wished he had figured it out while Whiskey was still around. Tequila was avoiding the question, that much at least was clear to Eggsy. 

 

It was a rough time for Tequila, for sure, but eventually he arranged with Champagne that he'd go to England with the two Galahads, and help them to return the Kingsmen to their former glory. It would give Tequila time to grieve, while still letting him keep busy and keep working. So off he went, to England. He had been given a fitted suit, to better match the Kingsman image and as much as he didn't think it would suit him - no pun intended - he was almost speechless looking at himself in the mirror. Sure, he had looked masculine before, manly enough that no one had second guesses, no one would think to ask if he was trans, but with the suit on, it was different. It was tight fitted, it clung to his body, but he could see now, more clearly than ever the shape of his body was basically what he wanted - flat chest only rounded by his pecs, suit pants clinging tight to his thighs without making his hips look feminine. Yes, when he arrived at the Kingsman base, he was confident that things might start to look up for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm thinking 4 chapters, sorry this one took so long to get done. apparently, this needed to be this long, personally i disagree but hey i'm just the writer. next chapter will have him meeting/realising another trans guy. idk whether to make this shippy or what, like, let me know i guess

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to message me on tumblr @bloodymercutio, and I have a discord server for Kingsman if you're keen on joining  
> I'll try to upload the second chapter tomorrow, as it's nearly done, just needs to be edited and fixed up!


End file.
